Circles of Illusion
by PartSpace
Summary: Circle Mage Natiana Culosiri is seeking out a rare magical tome, and asks Hawke for his help. But what is she really after and why? An attempt to write a new companion DLC-esque adventure.
1. Prologue

_Quick note, this was written with the intention of introducing a new companion character. I envisioned the whole adventure as a new DLC, and I've tried to write it as such. Yes, I've gone with a male mage Hawke, but I've tried to keep him generic so that you can mentally insert your own version of the Champion of Kirkwall. I'm still fiddling with the end and might need to write two versions, one for each outcome. We'll see. Please enjoy, tell me what you think, so on and so forth._

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

After she thought about it long enough, and Natiana was the sort of person who thought about everything a very long time, she came to the conclusion that fat mages were an uncommon thing. In fact, First Enchanter Jamio was the only truly fat mage she could think of. Some were certainly doughy, of course. A life in pursuit of magical knowledge didn't lead to a well toned body or excellent eyesight. But the Antivan First Enchanter was simply fat.

His round stomach hung over his belt, and his girth strained against the threads of his pea green robes, the color of which currently matched his face. Jamio stood hunched over the edge of the ship, emptying his lunch of hard biscuits and brandy into the waters of Kirkwall Harbor. If he kept that up, he might be trim before the ship reached its final destination of Nevarra.

Natiana Culosiri grimaced and looked away to focus on the large statues on the rocks. She had to squint to make out the details in the dimming sunlight, but she could see that they were slaves. Kirkwall was surrounded with statues of slaves. One would think they'd tear these mementos to a terrible past down, melt the metal and put it to a more practical purpose. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head to one side to watch the gates to Kirkwall open.

A sailor had told her she'd need to catch another boat to get to the Circle. Of course, he didn't call it the Circle, he called it the Gallows. Named for a place people went to be executed. To think she'd been looking forward to visiting the Kirkwall Circle on their way to the College of Magi in Cumberland. This was looking bleaker by the second.

When the ship finally did dock, Templars were waiting. Four of them stood in shining armor, milling about, trying to look relevant. The two mages had brought only two Templars with them from Antiva.

"Ah!" Jamio said and clapped his hands together. "Our escort to the Circle!" Jamio liked anything that made him appear more important than he actually was.

Natiana sighed and got to her feet following Jamio off the ship. They weren't going to Chant at her, were they? Growing up in the Circle, surrounded by Templars meant she knew the Chant backwards and forwards. She read it, studied it, wrote papers on it, and was under the impression it was all a bunch of horsefeathers. But she was also smart enough to keep that opinion to herself.

Mostly to herself.

Her brother had a very different opinion. He was far more devout than any Templar or Chantry sister. He was utterly convinced that the Maker had given him magic as a test. A test that, in his eyes, he was passing. The Templars and Senior Enchanters, on the other hand, saw things very differently.

Natiana followed Jamio in silence, tucking her hands into her sleeves to keep them warm. If she got what she wanted out of this trip, they could think whatever they wanted. They would not be able to hurt him, and her own achievements in the field of magic would be the stuff of legend.


	2. Act I: A Travelling Mage

**ACT I**

It was a sad state of affairs, his visiting Hightown so frequently. Hawke was conducting his usual business of scrounging up coin, trying to save enough to venture into the Deep Roads. But he couldn't get very far into the nicer area of Kirkwall without passing through the market, and that booth filled with shining, expensive daggers. His own dagger, kept secreted in his robes, was a sorry thing, tarnished, bent, and dull.

After the Deep Roads he could buy all the daggers he wanted. Hell, he could buy a mansion in Hightown if Varric was right about the riches they would find there. Everything in due time. But his footsteps always slowed when he passed the dagger merchant's booth, staring longingly at the rows of silver and steel.

Varric stepped closer to the table as well, shaking his head a little as he read the man's mind. "Save your coin, Hawke. Bartrand won't be willing to cut you any deals."

"I know," Hawke muttered, stepping away again. "A man can dream, though. Did you see the one with the ruby in the hilt?"

"Forget rubies," the dwarf said, his attention drawn to a shouting woman on the opposite end of the market. "What's going on over there?"

She was pale and thin, the sort of person who doesn't see much sun or hard labor. She had to be a mage, but not only because of her build. The young woman wore dusty blue Circle robes and fine leather boots, the sort one only finds in Antiva. Her hair was a chaotic halo of blond curls, pulled back from her face and held in place with a tortoiseshell pin.

Just behind her stood a Templar, but his armor was different from that worn by the Templars of Kirkwall. He didn't wear the long skirt of silk and mail, rather much more practical buck leather pants tucked into metal boots. He was dark, powerfully built, with a baby face and wide set eyes.

"We had an agreement!" the mage woman screeched, her mouth full of thick Antivan accent and her voice reaching incredible heights of volume and tone. "I sent you a deposit a month ago!"

Her Templar stood in silence, hands folded behind his back, watching the mage bickering with a bookseller, shifting from foot to foot and glancing about. A woman in Circle robes, standing in the middle of Hightown and screaming like a madwoman was attracting unwanted attention. The Templar cleared his throat, trying to catch the woman's notice.

She ignored him. She was staring daggers at the calm bookseller.

The bookseller simply raised his hands, "I am sorry. But I am a businessman."

"I'll tell you what you are," she spat.

"If someone offers me double what you were willing to pay, then it would be foolish for me to hold onto an item for someone who might never arrive, now wouldn't it?"

The mage woman glared harder before she let out a sound of frustration and walked in an angry circle. Her Templar touched her elbow and murmured to her softly in Antivan.

Varric and Hawke exchanged looks before they casually sauntered over to her. "Is there something we can help you with, miss?" Hawke asked.

The mage spun to face them, staring at the bearded man and clean shaven dwarf. She pointed angrily at the merchant, "He sold my book!"

The bookseller crossed his arms, "I'll give you a refund, mage."

"I don't want a refund, I want my book!"

Hawke shifted his weight to his other foot, looking to the bookseller, "Who did you sell it to?"

The bookseller narrowed his eyes at Hawke, looking him over. "Why should I tell you?"

Hawke smiled sweetly, "Because the lady clearly wants to purchase this book, and perhaps the person you sold it to would be willing to sell it to her," he answered in calm tones.

"And suppose you're nothing but highwaymen?" The bookseller looked between the two of them. "And you'll kill the man who bought it to get it?"

"You got paid. Do you really care what we do?" Varric asked in amused tones, tilting his head to one side.

"If I lose a customer, yes!" The bookseller scowled at the two men, then the mage and Templar.

The mage arched a brow, "Keep your deposit in exchange for a name. Is that fair?"

Hawke could see the merchant wavering under the promise of coin. His face screwed up as he eyeballed the woman. He finally exhaled, "Miliot."

"I know that name," Varric murmured. "Orlesian smuggler and a son-of-a-bitch, but what Orlesian isn't?"

"You know this man?" The mage blinked at them. "You can find him?"

Hawke held up a hand, "What sort of book is this, exactly?"

The mage's lips formed a thin line and she rocked back on her heels. "Magical Theory," she said at last. "Not blood magic, of course. Nothing forbidden. It's probably over your heads, to be honest, too difficult to explain." She smiled suddenly, extending a hand as she began to speak very quickly, "My name is Natiana Culosiri, by the way. This is Serr Rubilas," she motioned at the Templar then shook her head when Hawke opened his mouth, "He doesn't speak the Ferelden tongue, don't bother. But back to the matter at hand. If you could lead me to this man, if you could convince him to sell me this book, I will make it worth your while. I have money."

Hawke stroked his beard thoughtfully, "You do drive a hard bargain," he said while Varric let out a snort. "But I do think we can be of assistance. My name is Hawke, and this is Varric."

Natiana clapped her hands together and smiled again, this one more genuine. "Excellent."

"I'll find out where Miliot is at, if he hasn't left Kirkwall." Varric nodded once, looking up at Natiana. "We can meet at the Docks tonight. Assuming, of course, you'll be allowed out after the sun goes down. It's rare to see a Circle mage outside the Gallows."

Natiana's eyes rolled, "I am not a Kirkwall mage, I am visiting from Antiva with First Enchanter Jamio. We are on our way to the College of Magi in Cumberland. I have permission to go wherever I wish. Provided I keep Rubilas here close at hand." She tilted her chin up. "The Docks. At sunset. We shall be there." She spun on a heel and with rapid-fire words, explained the exchange to Rubilas in their native tongue.

The Templar's baby face screwed up with suspicion as he regarded both the men with a critical eye. But he inclined his head to them, and followed Natiana as she wove her way out of the market.

Varric clicked his tongue, "She's a bit of a handful, isn't she?"

"For the first time, I feel bad for a Templar. You don't believe her story about the book being on magical theory, do you?"

"Not for a second." Varric squinted at the sky. "I've got a few hours to talk to my contacts and track Miliot down. Shouldn't be too hard. C'mon."

* * *

><p>Natiana stood waiting for them, leaning against a wall outside the Qunari compound. Her Templar Rubilas was nearby with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, looking very unhappy. As Hawke walked down the stairwell to the docks, she jumped up and hurried towards him.<p>

"Have you found him? Have you talked to him? Is he willing to sell it? Does he need persuasion, I can be very persuasive, and I have been thinking that it would be really quite foolish of me to spend every last coin on this mess, but I have to, I've been-" She stopped suddenly, not to take a breath, but to blink at Hawke's companions. "Who are these people?"

Hawke glanced over his shoulder, "This is my brother Carver and my friend Aveline. Varric you know."

The mage woman's face twisted up. "Do I have to pay them as well? Is she a city guard? We don't need the city guard involved in this, do we?"

Carver's brows arched and looked at his brother, "And you were suspicious."

Aveline smiled gently, "I'm off duty for the moment, madam."

Natiana continued scowling, studying Aveline in particular. "I'm not doing anything illegal," she said pointedly.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Aveline replied in her matter-of-fact tone.

There was another tense moment, but finally Natiana spun to face Varric, "So is he here or not?"

The dwarf motioned down the darkened street, "He's booked passage on a boat out of the Free Marches. If we hurry, we can catch him."

"Then let us make haste!" Natiana said. "Lead the way."

The sun had just slipped below the waves, bathing the shipyards in faded grimy blue light. Varric motioned the party to follow as he made his way dockside. A tall ship rocked gently in the harbor where a few men carried cargo on board. "Miliot!" Varric called out.

A weasely looking man at the end of the gangplank spun around, his eyes going a bit wide. "Varric! What are you-"

Natiana was on him in an instant, shaking a finger in his face, "You have my book!"

Miliot stepped back in alarm, "What?"

"My book. _Yantios' Magical Theory._ You bought it, but it belongs to me."

Rubilas was looking increasingly agitated as his charge began to cause yet another scene.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Miliot stammered.

Natiana lifted her hand, making a sudden fist. Miliot's body glimmered, and then froze in place as he was lifted up onto his toes by magical energy. "I have been hunting for that book for five years. I finally track it down, I talk the First Enchanter into letting me tag along on this journey, I go through all this trouble to get my hands on it only to find out that _you_ bought it."

As she began to use magic, Rubilas leapt closer and reached out to snag her arm.

She twisted her arm to get out of his grip, leaning in closer to the hovering smuggler, "I want it back. Tell me what you want-"

There was a sudden quick whipping whoosh, and Natiana blinked. She lifted her free hand to her ear, and then looked at her fingers. Blood colored her fingertips red. Confusion crossed her face, and she began to look a little pale when she heard Rubilas fall beside her, an arrow through his temple.

They spun to see a bowman on the ship, quickly knocking another arrow and muttering a curse. He'd missed his intended target by inches.

Natiana gasped, and released Miliot, spinning and dropping to her Templar's side, "Rubilas! Rubilas, no!"

Hawke shook his head with a grimace, "Wonderful," and pulled the staff from his back.

There were ten men against four, and Hawke was quick to bathe the lot of them in magical flame. The night air was filled with screams as they scrambled backwards, hands slapping at their burning clothing.

Bianca made quick work of the bowmen, one after another falling with a crossbow bolt through their hearts and foreheads. Aveline and Carver laid waste to the rest of the men on the dock with swift flashes of steel and sprays of blood. In short order, only Miliot remained.

Natiana was still crouched by the dead Templar, trembling. "They attacked us," she said in disbelief. "They killed him!" She turned to look at Miliot.

Miliot got back to his feet, hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I have your book. A Tevinter Magister had me find it, he's willing to pay handsomely-"

Natiana slowly rose, walking towards Miliot. "You killed him," she said again, voice lower. Her eyes seemed to illuminate, and the world around her began to flicker and curl. "He was a good man."

Miliot's eyes bugged, and he backed away to the edge of the dock. He looked behind him, considering jumping. When he looked back at Natiana, there was a massive ogre crawling out of the ground between them. Miliot screamed.

The ogre stepped closer, shaking its fists angrily in the air. "You steal, you smuggle, you kill a good man. Over a bit of coin!" Natiana said.

Miliot shrieked, pulling a book from his bag and throwing it at the ogre, and it tumbled through the beast to land at Natiana's feet. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Miliot scrambled backwards again, and finally lost his footing. He tumbled into the water, striking his head on the way down, and disappeared beneath the waves.

The ogre was gone in an instant, the illusion glittering away to nothing. Natiana looked down at the blood on her hands and rocked unsteadily on her feet. Hawke had to step forward quickly to catch her before she fell.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I cannot stand the sight of blood. I think I'm going to be sick." She held onto him arm, steadying herself with deep breaths and closed eyes.

"A mage that hates blood. That's refreshing," Carver muttered.

"They killed him," she said again. "Why would they kill him?"

"You threatened him!" Carver spat. "What did you expect to happen?"

"I was trying to negotiate!" she answered.

"That is what you call negotiating?" Carver shook his head in disbelief.

Natiana sighed, kneeling beside the dead Templar. She shook her head. "I never thought they'd attack like that… How could I have been so thick?"

Hawke scooped up the dropped book and flipped through the pages. He couldn't make sense of a single word, and the ornate illustrations of star charts and plant life were unfamiliar. "That spell you cast," he began, looking to her questioningly.

"An illusion. They're my specialty," she mumbled. "And you are a mage. An apostate."

"I am." Hawke shrugged. "This mess wasn't a complete loss." He closed the book and held it out to her.

Natiana sniffed and took the tome from him. "It isn't worth this." She hugged it to her chest, resting her free hand on Rubilas' shoulder. "I'm… going to be in a great deal of trouble."

"You were on your way back to the Gallows," Hawke said, motioning to the ferry at the far end of the shipyard, "when you were attacked. Rubilas laid down his life to save you. They should believe that."

Natiana looked up at him, and then nodded. She wiped her face and got to her feet. "Thank you." Her thin fingers untied the purse at her hip. "Here."

Hawke took the purse with a grimace, "You'll be all right?"

The mage nodded, "Of course." She offered him a sad smile, and then stepped away from them towards the ferry. "Thank you again. I owe you a great deal."

Several weeks later, Hawke heard that the odd Antivan mage had set sail for Cumberland. He didn't give her much thought afterwards, not with the Deep Roads ahead of him, nor did he think he'd ever see her again.


	3. Act II:  Recruiting Natiana

**ACT II - Recruiting Natiana**

"A Harlot's Blush Flower? Great name." Varric glanced up at Hawke. "But surely our talents could be put to better use than picking flowers."

Hawke chuckled. He hardly needed the coin anymore. The trip into the Deep Roads made him disgustingly rich, not to mention part owner of a lucrative mine. Mother was beside herself with delight to be back in her childhood home. He was gaining prestige and making a name for himself in Kirkwall. The past three years had been very good to the Hawke family, even if Carver decided to join the Templars. Hawke had managed to avoid him, having little desire to see him or to introduce the possibility of Carver turning in his apostate brother.

"Solivitus asked so nicely. If we see one, we'll grab it for him, that's all."

Anders was at Hawke's side as well, though Hawke made a mental note to stop bringing the mage with him to the Gallows. He could see the effect the place had on him. Anders would curl his hands into fists and let his fingernails cut into his palms, while Justice no doubt cried and writhed inside his mind like a caged beast. The statues that surrounded Kirkwall and lined the entrance to the Circle only made it that much more painfully obvious the place was a prison. Anders kept throwing dark, nervous glances at the Templars.

"We can't keep getting sidetracked." It was Fenris who spoke, lagging behind the others. "The Viscount wants us to visit the Arishok."

"Right," Hawke nodded, mentally running through his growing to-do list. "Soon as we're off the ferry, we'll head-"

"Sirrah Hawke."

Hawke turned at the voice, and looked up to see a thin figure descending the Circle stairs. The mage had changed little since he last saw her, still in her Circle robes with wild blonde curls. But she seemed softer, older, and more mature. Natiana offered him a smile, folding her hands before her. "I hear you've done well since last we met."

Varric let out a bark of laugher, "If it isn't the bookworm! I didn't think we'd see you again. Didn't you go back to Antiva?"

Natiana lifted her shoulders in a shrug, "It's been three years. Time for another College of Magi. First Enchanter Jamio is making his usual visit. Of course, this time I'm an Enchanter myself, rather than his assistant."

"Meaningless title," Anders muttered as he crossed his arms. "Put a fancy dress on a Darkspawn and it's still a Darkspawn. A mage calling herself an Enchanter is still a prisoner."

"And being an Enchanter and visiting dignitary affords certain rights that a _prisoner_ otherwise wouldn't have," she added pointedly, arching a brow at Anders before she looked back at Hawke. "For instance, you. You are respected in this city, did you know that? First Enchanter Orsino speaks very highly of you."

"Does he now?" Hawke asked.

"In fact, you were deemed suitable to escort me through the city." She smiled faintly. "You did me a tremendous service those three years ago, Hawke. The whole mess with Miliot… It made me realize many things." She trailed off, looking up at the bronze statues, then back at Hawke. "Seeing as I will be in Kirkwall for a few weeks yet, I may be able to repay that favor. If you will allow me, I would be happy to join you."

Hawke gave her a critical look, "You don't still faint at the sight of blood, do you?"

"I can… stomach the sight of it," she answered slowly. "But no, no fainting." She lifted her brows, looking between the men expectantly.

"An apostate, an abomination, a blood mage, and now a pet to your version of a magister," Fenris growled. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Hawke?"

"Ignore the elf," Varric said. "He has a chronic case of the grumpies, as Daisy puts it."

Hawke held his hand out to the Circle mage, and he accepted it. "Thank you, Enchanter Natiana. I'd never say no to an offer of aid."


	4. Act II: Companion Banter, Part One

**ACT II - Companion Banter: Part One**

Anders: So you're a Circle Mage.

Natiana: Yes.

Anders: And you don't believe in the Maker.

Natiana: Correct.

Anders: And you think the Templars shouldn't exist.

Natiana: Correct again.

Anders: And you are proud to be a Circle Mage.

Natiana: Is this going somewhere other than in circles?

Anders: How can you both deny the existence of the Maker AND think that the Circle is a good thing? I can't wrap my head around it.

Natiana: I never said the Circle was perfect. I think the ideal situation would be if the Circle was completely removed from the Chantry's control and able to look after itself.

Anders: But you do agree that the Circle should tear children away from families and hold them against their will.

Natiana: No. Well. No, not that _exactly_, but all mages should be in the Circle. It should not be an option, for everyone's safety.

Anders: You are a walking pile of contradictions, you know that?

Natiana: Says the abomination who wishes to see mages free.

* * *

><p>Sebastian: I don't understand you.<p>

Natiana: It seems that few people do.

Sebastian: Why don't you believe that the Maker exists?

Natiana: I don't believe that any gods exist, only powerful mages with agendas.

Sebastian: The Maker isn't a mage, He's a presence. I can feel Him, His warmth, His love.

Natiana: With the proper magic, I could trick your mind into thinking you feel me in the same way.

Sebastian: It isn't magic or trickery. It's divinity.

Natiana: How do you know the difference? It's a thin line between divinity and delusion.

Sebastian: I know within my heart what is true. I pray one day you feel Him as well.

Natiana: Might as well pray that I grow a second head, it's just as likely to happen.

* * *

><p>Natiana: Fenris?<p>

Fenris: Hm?

Natiana: Has anyone in Kirkwall managed to give you a positive view of mages?

Fenris: You're referring to yourself?

Natiana: Well… yes.

Fenris: No.

* * *

><p>Aveline: What are the Templars like in Antiva?<p>

Natiana: Antivan Templars act as caretakers. More like… big brothers rather than jailers. Very different from Kirkwall.

Aveline: That's a relief to hear.

Natiana: You get a few… how do you say, bad eggs? I think any position that allows a person power over another will draw the bad eggs, but they are given positions outside the Circle.

Aveline: A wise policy indeed.

Natiana: They're also all men.

Aveline: Well, that's just idiotic.

* * *

><p>Varric: How are you liking Kirkwall so far, Bookworm?<p>

Natiana: Nice to visit. Don't care to stay.

Varric: No? But we have so much to offer! Drunks passed out on every corner, dead rats floating in the ale…

Natiana: Your next story should be a travelogue.

* * *

><p>Isabella: You know, I've always wondered what goes on behind closed doors in the Circle. Especially in a place like Antiva.<p>

Natiana: Meaning you wonder how much sex we have.

Isabella: Sweetheart, we need to work on your innuendo.

Natiana: I don't really know. That sort of thing never interested me.

Isabella: We need to work on more than your innuendo.

* * *

><p>Merrill: You're not going to tell the Circle about me, are you?<p>

Natiana: What? No! Of course not! Why would you think a thing like that?

Merrill: Oh dear, I've offended you, haven't I?

Natiana: Merril, I-

Merrill: It's just I've never met a Circle Mage, not one who liked the Circle, and I know you don't care for the Templars, so you certainly wouldn't tell them!

Natiana: Merrill-

Merrill: But I was thinking it might be more of a professional sort of curiosity thing, you know? Sitting around, talking about magic, you might bring me up.

Natiana: No, Merrill. I would not.

Merrill: No? Oh. Well, that leaves me a little sad, truth be told. Wasn't expecting to be sad.


	5. Act II: Preventative Measures

**Act II - Natiana's Companion Quest: Preventative Measures**

"Hawke! Excellent, glad you're here."

It was early that morning when a Chantry messenger showed up at the Hawke estate with letter in hand. "Hawke," it read in a tidy script, "I must see you at once, and time is of the essence. I am in dire need of my favorite escort. Please see me at the Gallows the moment you get this letter. Signed, Enchanter Natiana Culosiri."

Hawke had barely gotten the sleep sand from his eyes when he arrived at the Gallows. He was up entirely too late drinking with Varric and Isabella, and his brain still buzzed from the effect of a brand of ale found only in Kirkwall. He squinted up at the mage. "What is it?"

Natiana jogged down the Gallows stairwell, hooked Hawke by the arm, and drew him into a dark corner of the Courtyard. "I need you to help me find a man."

Hawke tipped his head back with a sigh, "Why does everyone come to me with this? Whatever you do, don't give him copper marigolds."

Her face screwed up with confusion, "What are you talking about? No, I need to find a very specific man. His name is Theridon."

"And what is it you want with this man?"

Natiana paused, looking over her shoulder. "It's… it's about the book."

"Of course it is."

"Don't tease. The book… well." She fussed with the cuff of her sleeve. "It was a very valuable book indeed, lots of very important and helpful information, and I'm arranging a reprinting of certain chapters, but," she sucked in a breath, "it didn't have what I needed."

"And what is it you needed?" Hawke tilted his head at her. "If you want my help, you're going to need to be honest with me, Natiana."

She stared at him a moment, mouth twisted in a grimace. "You had a sister, didn't you? A mage? I have a mage sibling as well. My brother, Cristiago. He's back at the Antivan Circle." Her head shook sadly, and she leaned against the thick wall of the Gallows. "He's a foolish boy. Believes that not only does the Maker actually exist, but that his having magic is a test from Him."

"You don't believe in the Maker?"

"Sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from holy miracles." Her head shook again, "That's neither here nor there. Cristiago thinks that the Maker has given him magic to test his will. He doesn't perform magic at all. He hasn't in nearly ten years. He goes to classes, of course, studies hard, learns what he can about magic and the Chant, but he stubbornly refuses to cast a single spell."

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?" Hawke arched a brow.

"No," her eyes narrowed at him. "If he does not practice magic, he cannot learn how to control it. If he does not learn to control it, he is more likely to succumb to demons. He also refuses to enter the Fade, which means he refuses to do his Harrowing which means…" She trailed off, and then lifted her hand to rub her temple, "Which means they will make him Tranquil."

Hawke rocked back on his heels. Undergoing the Rite of Tranquility was as good a death sentence. He thought back on Karl, how the man had begged Anders for death rather than return to the empty shell that was being a Tranquil. Anders had obliged, but it was painful and still weighed heavily on the man. "So this book," Hawke said slowly.

"I had hoped it contained a way to guard against becoming Tranquil, or find a way to reverse it."

"Is that even possible?"

Natiana's gaze dropped, and she picked at her fingernails. "Just because you're told a thing isn't possible, that doesn't mean you should stop looking for an answer."

Hawke frowned, "What does your brother think about becoming Tranquil?"

Her shoulders sagged. "He tries to act unconcerned. That if this is what the Maker has planned for him, he will do it. He would gladly give up his magic. I swear, some nights it is as if he is trying to pray the magic away." She looked back at him, "But I know he's frightened, Hawke. He told me once he was worried that he'd no longer feel the Maker. The Tranquil, they don't feel anything. No love, no passion, no hate. Nothing." Her head shook a little, "I won't see that happen to him. I won't."

Hawke's mouth set into a thin line, but he nodded slowly, "What does this Theridon have to do with all this?"

"He was the Tevinter buyer that Miliot was going to sell to all those years ago. I've been looking into him. Following his movements. I think he's after the very same thing that I am, a way to end the Rite of Tranquility. I've heard that he's in Kirkwall, but I'm not sure why."

"What do you want to do if and when we find him?"

The mage gave him a weak little smile, "Compare notes?" She put her hands up quickly, "Not kill him! You know how much I abhor killing people."

Hawke leveled a look at her, "You've helped me kill bandits."

She tilted her chin up in the air, "That was self defense. Completely different."

"Right," Hawke sighed. "Have you got anything at all to go on besides a name?"

Natiana nodded once, "I've heard he's arranged to meet a smuggler band on the Wounded Coast. What he's after, I cannot say. But I should like very much to know what it is."

* * *

><p>It was late evening and edging into night when Hawke found the smuggler band on the Wounded Coast. The air was cleaner out of the city, filled with the scent of salt, rather than the dead fish smell of the docks. Night birds were just beginning their song, and crickets casually exchanged their critiques of the performance. But the closer Hawke and his companions got to the smuggler band, the quieter the natural world became, and the scent of the sea was replaced with the stinging smell of cheap rum and refined lyrium.<p>

Hawke signaled Natiana, Fenris, and Varric to hold, and he crouched behind high grasses. The smugglers were mostly dwarves, cackling to one another and loading barrels onto a small schooner.

"Do you see the magister?" Hawke whispered to Natiana.

"I don't know what he looks like," she answered. "I don't see anyone that looks like they are from the Imperium."

"No one there is from the Imperium," Fenris muttered. "But they are smugglers. Let's kill them and move on."

Natiana scowled at the suggestion, but Hawke rose and jogged into the clearing. The smugglers turned to look at him in surprise, and most of them drew weapons. Hawke lifted his empty hands, "We're looking for a man named Theridon." Of course, if the diplomatic approach didn't work, those empty hands were ready to bring forth a wave of flame.

One of the smugglers, apparently the leader if one was to judge by his finer clothes and grade of weapons, chuckled. "You one of his men? Just missed him. Ran off to the caves up there." He motioned to the north. "Hurry and you can catch him."

Varric let out a snort, "That was easy."

Fenris slid his blade from his back, arching a brow at Hawke. "No one said smugglers were a bright lot. Let's get this over with before we lose him."

Natiana shot Fenris a dark look, "Now just a moment, do we always need to resort to violence? Honestly, if-"

Hawke's staff whipped in front of her face, and a loud clunk was heard as it caught a dagger that had been flying at her head. The smugglers were advancing, ready for battle.

Natiana sighed, pulling her staff from her back, "Well, now we HAVE to kill them, don't we?"

The sharp clang of metal filled the air as Fenris parried an attack from a dwarf with a heavy axe. The elf lifted a foot to kick him away, then brought his sword down heavy, slicing into the smuggler's shoulder and nearly taking the arm off. A moment later, a dwarven rogue appeared from a puff of smoke behind him, drew his dagger across his back, then flung a handful of choking black powder into Fenris' face before he had time to react. Fenris stumbled back, coughing as more smugglers closed in on him.

Suddenly, they began to back away, eyes wide, shaking in terror. Natiana has jogged up onto a little sand dune, her staff in the air as she filled their minds with horrific visions. Dragons seemed to be swooping down upon them from every direction, and beasts with toothy mouths were crawling out of the sea to gobble them up.

Fenris gave her a quick nod and quick smile, and leapt forward to tear them apart with his colossal blade.

Bianca was happy to help in the fight by raining down bolts on the smugglers, while Hawke's magic both burned the enemies and tore them apart.

Natiana, as usual, squinted and squirmed when the battle was over, turning her back on the aftermath and the puddles of blood. Hawke heard her muttering something about raspberry jam before she spoke up in a louder voice. "Right. The cave. And please, PLEASE let me talk to him before we attack?" She gave Fenris another of her pointed looks, and marched up the hill.

"We are going to kill him in the end, aren't we?" Fenris turned to Hawke, his voice weary as he wiped blood from a gash on his side.

Hawke tossed him a bottle of healing potion and smiled crookedly. "This is Natiana's quest. But remind me to not put her in charge again?"

At the end of the northern path, a narrow cave opened before them like the mouth of a corpse. Natiana stopped, turning her staff nervously in her hands, then looked back at the men. "So if he's a Tevinter magister, he might also know blood magic, right?"

Fenris let out a hard sound that may have been a laugh, "Might? It's a guarantee."

"You have a problem with blood magic?" Hawke asked. "Since when? What about Merrill?"

"Well, that's Merrill. I'm not worried about her using it on us." She drummed her fingers against one another under her narrow chin. "He might."

"Again with these 'mights,'" Fenris said.

"All right, so he will." Natiana frowned at the elf. "There will be... unsavory elements in there. Corpses and things."

Hawke rubbed his face with his hand, "The longer you stand out here worrying about it, the further away he is getting and the less courage you have. Let's go and get him and see what he knows about helping your brother avoid becoming Tranquil. That is why we're here, isn't it?"

Natiana's fidgeting disappeared almost instantly, and she nodded with new determination. "Yes, of course. For Cristiago." She turned and stepped into the darkness of the cave.

The damp air was thick with the smell of death and mold. Torches had been placed along a wide path that led deeper into the ground. The four of them rounded a corner, and came upon a collection of skeletons that were getting to their feet, lifting their weapons. Natiana let out a small squeal of fright and alarm.

"Look on the bright side, Bookworm!" Varric called out, "The dead don't bleed!"

The dead didn't bleed, but those who weren't dead all that long still stunk and spilled out a vile concoction of rotten remains when sliced open. Another battle left the cave floor littered with dead bodies that stayed dead. The path that had been winding down began to inch up again, signaling an exit at the other end of the tunnel. Hawke squinted out the cave opening, another side of the Wounded Coast that led to the sea. "Looks like we missed him."

There was a scraping sound, and they spun to see narrow opening in the rock. Fenris stepped forward, reaching in an arm and pulling out a mage dressed in the Tevinter style. He yelped and struggled against the elf's grip, then lifted his staff. Hawke quickly snatched it from him.

"Theridon, I presume?" Hawke asked as Fenris snagged his other arm and held them behind his back.

The Tevinter mage looked at the four of them with wide eyes, "What do you want from me? How did you get past the skeletons?"

Natiana stepped closer, looking him over. "You're not what I expected from a magister." He was not in the least bit threatening, nervous, twitchy, and shaking in Fenris' grip. He was beginning to lose his hair, and there was a day's growth of beard along his chin.

"I-I'm not. A magister. Not yet. Yes, yes, I tell people _here_ that, but when you tell someone you're a magister, and they pay attention!" Theridon's eyes darted from one man to another.

"Why are you in the Free Marches?" Hawke asked.

"Buying lyrium. It's too expensive in Tevinter for the quantities I need."

"Just lyrium?" Fenris asked, a hard edge to his voice.

"I don't see how that is any of your busine-ooww..." Theridon winced as Fenris twisted his arm in a direction that arms usually don't go.

Natiana scowled and crossed her arms. "You've been studying a way to combat the Rite of Tranquility. And I want to know what you've found out."

"What?" He went pale. "How did you... nevermind." He winced again at Fenris' tight grip on his arms. "I haven't found much. I've been experimenting with different potions to prevent the brand taking effect, but none of them have worked to my satisfaction."

"The Chantry doesn't make Tranquil in the Imperium," Fenris said, his voice a low rumble. "Why do you want to know?"

Natiana's eyes narrowed, "And what do you mean, none of them have worked?"

Theridon seemed to shrink a little. "Well... you know, if we could take Tranquil from your Circle and return magic to him, that would be a good thing for all of us, no? And... it's a dangerous weapon that could be used against us by the Templars of other lands. We need to protect ourselves." He stared at Natiana, "And... I've only been toying with slaves who possess minimal magical talent, they don't matter."

A split second later, Theridon was sprawled out on the cave floor with a bloody nose, and Fenris was wiping his knuckles on his trousers.

Hawke's eyes widened, "You've been making slaves Tranquil to see if a potion works?"

Theridon rolled on the floor, howling in pain and cupping his nose.

"That's why he needed so much lyrium," Varric muttered. "Son of a bitch."

Fenris spun to Natiana, eyes wide with fury, "Please let me kill this man!"

The Antivan mage was silent, her expression cold. She glanced to Fenris, then crouched by Theridon. "I want your research. Now. Or my friend will remove your head, and I'll get the information I want out of it by other means."

Theridon stared up at Natiana, and his hands searched his robes, digging desperately through his pockets. Finally, he withdrew a thick leather binder, and held it out to her.

Natiana took the binder from him and straightened. She plucked a few pages out, scanning them with narrowed eyes. She glanced at Fenris, then at Hawke. "You know how I feel about killing."

Fenris spat out a flurry of colorful Tevinter curse words.

Natiana looked down at the papers in her hand, "But if this man is allowed to live, he will continue his... 'research.'" She turned back to Hawke, her brows pulling together with a helpless expression. It was obvious that she was turning to him to make the decision.

Hawke turned to Fenris, voice low, "Kill him."

Natiana nodded slightly, and turned away.

The elf smiled, turning back to the Tevinter mage on the ground, "Finally, you listen to reason." His markings glowed lyrium blue, and his hand sunk into the flesh of Theridon's chest. His fist closed about the heart inside the mage, crushing it. Theridon let out a strangled cry, shuddered, and then was still, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Hawke looked back at Natiana, only to see her stepping out of the tunnel and into the moonlight and fresh air outside. She looked pale, sucking in deep breaths. He rested a hand on her back, "You're all right?"

She nodded, drawing in one last deep breath and regained her composure. "Can you search him? Make sure we didn't miss anything?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Hawke," she said, offering him a weak smile. "I should like very much to return to the Circle now."

* * *

><p><strong>Questioning Beliefs<strong>

"Hello, Natiana."

The blonde woman looked up. She was sitting in her favorite dark corner of the Gallows, pouring over Theridon's notes. She gave Hawke a small smile. "Hello, Hawke." Her head shook, and she looked back down at the papers, "You were right to kill him. Theridon was a monster. In every sense of the word. But he kept immaculate records."

"What have you discovered?" He looked over her shoulder. "Anything of use?"

"I don't know." Natiana rubbed the back of her neck, "He recorded the sex, age, height, and weight of every one of his 'subjects.' No names. He also recorded what he gave them and in what quantities. A little bit of everything, even raw lyrium in two cases." Her head shook as she turned the paper over. "In both cases, the subjects died."

"That's horrific."

"It's impossible for me to know if any of this would work on my brother." She sagged on the bench. "There's more. In nearly every instance, he used blood magic."

"That's hardly surprising."

"But suppose that's the answer." She looked up at him. "Suppose it is forbidden in part because of that."

Hawke leveled a look at her, "It's forbidden because it's dangerous. It changes people."

Natiana carefully slid the papers back into the binder. "I've thought about that. I don't believe that magic in and of itself is evil." Her head shook as she met his gaze. "Magic is neutral. It is the magic users that can be either good or evil."

"Then why is it m_aleficarum_ tend to be on the evil side?"

"Because it's forbidden." She rolled to her feet and tucked the binder under her arm. "If something is illegal, then only criminals will do it. It's going to attract a certain element. It's also easy. It's a... how do you say, short cut. A mage who would look for the easy path is already weak willed. He is already the sort of mage that a demon would seek out." Her head shook, "What's more, the Templars use it. What is a phylactery if not a form of blood magic?"

"Interesting theory," Hawke tilted his head at her thoughtfully. "Would you ever use blood magic?"

"Of course not!" Her nose wrinkled at the idea. "It's beneath me."

"And it involves blood," Hawke added, wriggling his fingers in the air with a playful expression of terror.

"I am never going to hear the end of that, am I?" She shook her head, and turned back towards the Circle stairs, Hawke a few steps behind. "Cristiago would never forgive me if I resorted to that," she added in a softer voice. "I have only once chance to attempt to protect him from the brand. I am terrified that I will return to Antiva to find it already done."

Hawke nodded, sobering as he pulled an ivory staff from his back, "You wanted me to search the body. He had this, if you can get any use out of it."

Natiana took it from him, turning it in her hands, brows pulling together as she fingered the markings and charms set into the staff. "I've never seen anything like this. I wish I knew more about how magic was really done in the Imperium, not just rumors and hearsay."

"I won't tell Fenris you said that."

She looked back at him, and smiled gently. "Thank you, Hawke. I will do what I can with this research. Those slaves will not have been sacrificed in vain."

* * *

><p><strong><em>I'd like to take a quick moment to thank the readers, and especially the reviewers CreatedInFyre7 and kdarnell2. I'll try to continue to post week-daily, but I'm catching up to my buffer of chapters, and am still struggling to pick which quests to recreate with Natiana in the party. Leave a note if you have any requests or just anything to say at all. You know how we writers live for feedback and constructive criticism. Thanks again<em>**_**!**_


	6. Act II: Night Terrors

**Act II: Night Terrors**

Choose wisely, the elven Keeper had told him. Hawke thought he _had_ chosen wisely. He'd brought along Anders who, in a surprising turn, became the spirit of Justice as soon as they had crossed the Veil and entered the Fade. Anders turned out to be the only smart selection.

Aveline was tempted away by a desire demon. Caress had promised to return her late husband to her. A low blow. Of course she could not refuse. Hawke was kicking himself as he moved to the next room without her. "She'll be all right, won't she?"

"Of course," Natiana answered. "We killed the demon. Aveline might have a headache at worst."

His third choice had originally been Sebastian, but he adamantly refused to enter the Fade. So much for that strategy. If anyone of his companions were likely to be immune to demons, it would be Sebastian.

So he turned to Natiana, who had given him a crooked smile and said, "Please, Hawke. I've been to the Fade and faced down a demon in my Harrowing. I think I can manage it a second time."

As with Aveline, this was a mistake. The second room shifted and transformed as Hawke entered it, and this time he found himself in the guise of First Enchanter Orsino, watching Feynriel receive praise from Keeper Marethari.

"That's not the Keeper, Feynriel," Hawke said, hearing Orsino's voice come from his lips. "Demons can take on other forms."

"He lies!" Marethari shrieked. "The First Enchanter is a pawn of the Templars!"

The young half elf turned to look at him, eyes wide. "No! Silence demon!" Feynriel jogged back a few steps, then turned and ran, disappearing a second time behind a glimmer of light.

"You! Why did you interfere?" The Keeper stepped back and dropped her arms and head. She began to change and grow, her limbs stretching, skin tearing and spilling out a cold glow. Soon she was a demon of pride, a huge creature with gleaming scales and hate filled eyes. It stood over Hawke, Justice, and Natiana, heaving hot, angry breaths on their faces. "With my power joined to his, Feynriel would have changed the world."

"The boy only wants his freedom."

"Those who are free to choose always want power," the demon hissed. "Do you think this mage would side with you and deny all the power that I would offer to her?"

Natiana smirked, stepping forward, "Please, demon, I know how this goes. You offer me something that I would be a fool to refuse, I refuse, and we all go home. Let's just skip to the end, shall we?"

"The last time you faced one of my kind you _were_ a fool," the demon answered. "You thought you could win everything you wanted all on your own. But you are older and wiser now, aren't you? I can grant you the magic of the ancients, the magic of the gods. There would be no mortal your equal, and your dear brother would be saved."

Hawke looked quickly at her, "You're not actually considering this, are you?"

Natiana blinked a few times, staring at him, then slowly her gaze returned to the demon. "What... specific spells might we be referring to?"

The demon rocked back on his heels with triumph in his dark, glittering eyes. "Your companion will never allow me to say. Not while he is living."

Hawke let out a sigh, "Damn it, Natiana," and drew the staff from his back. Natiana jumped back, lifting her own staff. This would at least be a quick fight. The Antivan's focus was supporting others, not causing damage.

But for the briefest of moments, Hawke swore he could see ten more pride demons. He shut his eyes tightly, shook his head, and then refocused his attention on Natiana. He wouldn't know what was real and what was illusion until he took her out.

He swept his hand at her, cold air blowing his hair back as he channeled a cone of freezing magic at her. She stumbled back, and then was locked in place, fingers of frost crawling up her thin face. He swung his staff and fired a bolt of pure force magic at her. She shattered in an explosion of ice crystals, and was gone.

Hawke returned his attention to the single pride demon that Justice was engaged in combat with. 'Natiana better be groveling the next time I see her,' he thought, and leapt back into the fray.

**Act II: Natiana's Apology**

In her usual dark corner of the Gallows, Natiana sat on her bench, her knees drawn up to her chest. She turned to watch Hawke approach and quickly hopped to her feet. "Hawke. I am sorry, I am so... so sorry. I don't know what came over me..."

"Betrayal came over you," Hawke said through clenched teeth. "To save your brother, I get it. But Natiana, you know better!"

"I know, I know!" She dropped back onto the bench, hands over her head. "The worst of it is it wasn't even entirely that. He offered power. Prestige. The ability to reverse Tranquility was just offered as a bonus." Her hands covered her mouth, eyes a bit wide. "The demon saw a side of me I don't like to admit is there. If he offered me just the knowledge to reverse the Rite, I would have refused. He knew deep down that I wanted more."

"You got overconfident," Hawke said with a furrowed brow.

"I do that," she offered him a weak smile, then shook her head. "I am sorry, Hawke. Truly. I'm not nearly as indomitable as I like to claim. Nor as selfless as I'd like to be."

"You're going to need to convince me that I can trust you, Natiana. I have my hands full as it is with Justice and Merrill, I can't lose you to a demon."

She stared up at him a few moments, and her brows slowly pulled together. "If you are there to remind me how stupid even a genius like me can be," she smiled faintly, "I think I'll be all right."


	7. Act II: Flirt Option

****_Oh course you want to know what happens if you attempt to flirt with Natiana. I gave this a few tries and almost didn't include it at all. Enjoy.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Act II: Flirt Option<strong>

He needed to visit Natiana more often. Poor thing couldn't leave the Gallows without him, and as much as she raved about her various studies into every branch of the mystical arts, even she had to get cabin fever from time to time. He nodded to Ser Cullen as he passed, moving through a tunnel, past the little area where Tranquil and other mages sold goods, and down to a dark little atrium where Natiana often read in peace.

Not today. Isabella was already here.

"-told him to sod off." Isabella laughed and shook her head, then turned her dark gaze back on the mage. "So," she drawled, pivoting lazily on the ball of her foot, "I brought you something I am sure you'll like."

Natiana's brows lifted in surprise, "Did you really?"

"Mmhm." From her bag, the pirate drew a thin, red leather bound book, and held it out to the mage, never once losing her wicked smile.

Natiana, whose face had been a mixture of surprise and delight at the idea of a gift, gave Isabella a grimace once she read the cover. "_Erotica Malificarum_."

Isabella, still grinning, gave the mage a light shrug, "It's a quick read. Make sure you give me your thoughts when you're… finished." She winked, then turned on a heel and walked off with an extra swing in her hips.

Hawke got a tickle under his beard as she passed him. Hawke grinned back, and chuckled as he approached the frowning mage. "Can I borrow that when you're done?"

Natiana shot him a dark look, but turned the book over in her hands, apparently studying the binding. "She is incorrigible."

"She likes you!"

"She likes everyone." Natiana's lips twisted up to the side. "To Isabella, I am a curiosity and a conquest, nothing more."

"That's not true." Hawke leaned his hip against the thick, Gallows wall. "She likes to have fun, that's all. She wants to show you a good time, loosen you up."

"Complete lack of interest aside," Natiana's eyes rolled, "It's also a matter of impossibilities. I live in the Circle, surrounded by Templars and other mages at all time. Private time and private places don't exactly exist. Am I supposed to sneak her in? Or, less possible, myself out?"

"So… have you never…?" Hawke cocked a brow at her.

Natiana's lips made a flat line, eyes narrowing as she answered, "No, Hawke, I have never had sex."

"You're allowed to leave with me." Hawke couldn't help but grin. It was easy to see why Isabella enjoyed teasing her. Natiana was incredibly easy to rile up. "I could… get distracted and accidentally leave you two alone for a few hours in a room at the Hanged Man."

The mage's shoulders sagged, and she held the book out to him. "No. And you can borrow this right now. I don't wish to be seen with it."

"All right, so she's not to your tastes." Hawke took the book and tilted his head to the side as he studied the mage. Actually considering her for the first time in a more romantic context. She wasn't pretty, not in the traditional sense. Too thin, too pale, her nose turned up a bit too much and her lean face always seemed to wear a pinched expression. But she wasn't hideous, either, with soft skin and bright eyes. "What about me?"

Natiana's eyes grew so large that Hawke had trouble holding back laughter. He bit his lower lip, focusing his attention on a line of verse. "I think not," she said at last.

"How about a kiss then?" He glanced back at her, putting on his most charming of smiles. "You've at least kissed before, haven't you?"

Natiana flattened herself against the wall, eyes bugged as she stared at him. "I have."

"And? What did you think of them?"

"They were wet."

Hawke couldn't hold back the laughter this time. "Wet? That's it? Nothing… stirred within you?" He closed the book. "You haven't been kissed properly."

Natiana's eyes darted to the well lit Gallows courtyard, and the Templars milling about there and paying them no attention at all. She looked like a trapped rabbit, and if she pressed herself any tighter against the wall, she'd sink into the grout. She looked back at Hawke, wetting her lips, saying nothing.

"May I?" He tucked the book under his arm. "For… research purposes."

Natiana finally cracked a smile. "Research purposes." She studied his face with her eyes narrowed in thought, and then finally gave him a little nod.

Hawke slid his rough, callused hand under her jaw, tipping her face towards him. He leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers. He might have overdone it a bit, trying too hard to put too much passion into it. But this was the sort of kiss to impress, to knock her socks off, to leave all other kisses behind. Natiana, for her part, simply opened her mouth and accepted it. When he had finished, Hawke stepped back, watching her closely for a reaction.

Natiana looked puzzled, and rubbed her chin where his beard had lightly scratched at her skin. "You have very hard teeth."

Hawke doubled over in laughter. "That's it? You wound me!" Still laughing, he pressed the book back into Natiana's hands. "You need this more than I do. C'mon. Let's go kill some smugglers."


	8. Act II: Prime Suspect

**Act II: Prime Suspect**

So many Shades. When they appeared, the temperature of the room would always drop a few degrees. Luckily, a flaming rage demon would always appear a few moments later to even everything out. Hawke was alternating between blasts of enchanted heat and cold to fend them off. When the massive foyer was quiet again, Hawke stepped back and wiped his brow, struggling to catch his breath.

He heard Natiana at his shoulder, and felt her press a bottle of lyrium into his palm. "Thanks," he said, giving her a charming, breathless smile. "I'm beginning to think that Emeric was on to something. This DuPuis fellow is far from innocent." He flicked off the top of the bottle, and tipped his head back to gulp it down. He fatigue melted away, like washing aching muscles away under a warm shower of water.

"What was your first clue?" Varric settled Bianca onto his shoulder. Isabella laughed.

"I can't quite put my finger on it. Call it a gut feeling," he replied casually, handing the empty bottle back to Natiana. He motioned to a flight of stairs. "Let's go and find him, shall we?"

"Not to state the obvious," Natiana jogged up the marble stairs, "But this is blood magic."

Hawke nodded, running a hand along the wall. This place was a maze. If he followed one wall, he wouldn't lose his way. He turned down a corridor, and then pushed open a heavy oaken door to find large dining room that was quickly filled with more shades. "Damn," Hawke muttered, and pulled the staff from his back again. They weren't taken by surprise this time, and in short order, the shades were dispatched.

Hawke twirled his staff in his hand with a grin. "I think we're getting good at this."

Natiana sighed, "You may be. Demons don't have minds like men do. I doubt I've very much help here. These things don't care if they see the world burning around them, or ogres gnawing at their ankles."

"We may yet need you when we find DuPuis," Hawke assured her, turning to leave.

Isabella stopped him with an, "Oy!" Hawke turned, brow lifted. Isabella walked towards him, holding out a scrap of paper. "Take a look at this."

Natiana's eyes widened, "That's Circle letterhead!"

Hawke turned the paper to spill light across its face from the fire burning in the hearth. "In regards to your inquiry... the duty of seeking out missing mages, if there were any to begin with, would fall to the Templars of Starkhaven, not a minor noble from Kirkwall... The Circle does not welcome inquires about the mages in its care." He held the paper out to Natiana, "Signed First Enchanter Raddick."

Natiana snatched it from him, "I know Raddick. Poor man, what he's been through. What was Gascard looking for?"

"A specific mage from Starkhaven, I'd wager," Isabella scanned the dining room, then asked ever so casually, "You think he'd miss that silverware?"

"The Starkhaven Circle was burned to the ground by blood mages," Natiana murmured, eyeing the letter critically. "This must have been before that. Or it might be in regards to where the remaining mages were transported."

"We ran into some Starkhaven blood mages three years ago. Decimus and his followers."

"They were a jolly lot," Varric muttered.

"Starkhaven mages, and now blood magic here." Natiana's sharp eyes narrowed on Hawke. "Something is very wrong here, Hawke."

"Let's not dawdle. We need to find DuPuis."

The party moved on, through the dark house, slaying more shades along the way, but there was little sign of Gascard DuPuis.

Hawke opened another door to find it empty, only a wardrobe, and a table of half empty glittering red bottles.

"Blood magic again," Varric shook his head. "Let's keep moving."

The band rounded another hallway, dark but for the dim light of a few candles. Hawke led them into another room, this time a bedroom. Also empty. He turned to leave when he spotted Isabella rooting through a heavy chest. "Can the looting wait, Isabella?"

She turned to him, holding a fine silk dress to her curvy form. "What do you think? Not really my style, I know, but I'm not above a bit of role playing."

"Gascard doesn't have a wife. Why does he have women's clothing?" Varric wondered aloud.

"He IS Orlesian," Isabella said in a sing-song voice.

"Or they belong to his victims," Hawke said with a scowl.

There was a shriek from somewhere in the manor. Hawke turned and ran to the sound, coming from the next room over. The door was locked. Hawke huffed, jogged back a few steps, then threw his shoulder into the door. It flung open with a loud bang, revealing an older woman sprawled on the floor, and a lean man standing over her.

"Help me, please! He's gone mad!" the woman shrieked, holding up her hands.

The man, who could only be Gascard DuPuis, spun to face them. His hard expression quickly turned to alarm, and he backed away. "You're not... you're not him! Shit, I-... I know what this looks like, but I didn't hurt her!"

"So the wild eyed hysteria is just for show then?" Hawke crossed his arms, giving Gascard a dubious look.

"You don't understand. Someone is after her!" Gascard looked over his shoulder at the cowering woman. "I… had to keep her safe. I don't know why you're here, but there's a killer out there. And I think he's playing us both. Just-just let me explain."

"Twenty silver if he says, 'it wasn't me, it was the one armed man!'" chimed in Varric.

Gascard quickly told his story. There was a killer in Kirkwall, stalking women. One of his victims had been Gascard's own sister, and Gascard had been hunting him down ever since. "It starts with a bouquet of white lilies. He sends them to each new victim. Alessa was going to be next." He looked down at the woman again. She still sat on the floor, too terrified to even look him in the eye. Gascard went on, "I took her so he'd have to come to me. I was finally going to face my sister's killer, but then you showed up." He shot Hawke a sinister look, then shook his head wearily, rubbing his temples.

"He's lying!" Alessa gasped. "He… _hurt_ me."

"I've explained this. I need your blood to track you down if he took you. It was for your protection." He crouched in front of her, and she backed away, trembling.

"It's a more harmless form of blood magic," Natiana said. "The Templars use it to track down runaway mages."

Alessa finally managed to get to her feet, pulling away from Gascard. "Let go of me!" She tripped once over her expensive skirt, then fled the room.

Gascard took a few steps after her, then stopped himself, teeth gritted. "She'll go straight to the city guard. They'll ruin everything."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Hawke looked back at him. "The city guard can find this man. There should be enough evidence. They'll find him and have him arrested."

"I don't want him arrested." Gascard sneered as only an Orlesian can, and his voice dropped to a hiss. "This isn't about justice. I need to be the one to bleed him dry."

"That sounds… especially troubling coming from a blood mage." Natiana tilted her head, squinting at him. "What did you want from the Starkhaven Circle?"

Gascard stared at her, not speaking for a moment while his face remained a mask. "I was looking for a friend who resided at the Starkhaven Circle. I lost track of him after the fire. I wanted to know if he was all right." Gascard shook his head and swept his hand in front of him, as if pushing the topic off an invisiable table, "But we have more pressing matters. This killer. If you want to try and stop me, then do so. Stop wasting my time."

Hawke watched Gascard for a long moment. The hate in his voice when he spoke of the killer, the desire for revenge certainly seemed genuine. He was not fully convinced of his innocence, however. Finally, he stepped back, no longer blocking the path to the door. "Don't leave town."

"I won't," Gascard said, relieved. He walked towards the door, "I'm headed to Darktown. If you learn anything new about the killer, find me there. I have a score to settle with him."

Natiana turned to Hawke once he'd left the room, "I sure hope you did the right thing, Hawke. I am unconvinced of his innocence."

"Now we know where he is and can keep an eye on him." Hawke stepped towards the door, "Right, Varric?"

"You bet, Hawke. I'll contact some of the people in my Darktown network." Varric jogged a few steps to keep up with his short legs. "If he so much as gives someone a papercut, we'll hear about it."


	9. Act II: Companion Banter, Part Two

**ACT II - Companion Banter: Part Two**

Fenris: It isn't just because you are a mage.

Natiana: Are you talking to me?

Fenris: I don't like you, and I don't like mages, but I don't dislike you just because you are a mage.

Natiana: Oh, here we go.

Fenris: You are weak, you are soft, you seek power through knowledge, you are haughty, and you have the face of a rat.

Natiana: Is it my turn?

Fenris: Go on, then.

Natiana: You are cold, you are cruel, you take your anger out on those who do not deserve it, and you have the hairstyle of an emotional teenage girl.

Fenris: Feel better?

Natiana: I do, oddly enough. You?

Fenris: Oh, I have more. I'll save them for next time.

* * *

><p>Sebastian: Have you even heard the Chant of Light, Natiana?<p>

Natiana: I've been in the Circle since I was eleven, of course I've heard the Chant.

Sebastian: What issue do you take with it?

Natiana: Oh, I don't think I have enough energy to list off the issues I have with the Chant and Chantry.

Sebastian: Pick one.

Natiana: "And lo, Kariquel looked upon the youths, shining with sinful blood, and thanked the Maker for sending the beasts of the wood to strike them down."

Sebastian: You're taking that out of context.

Natiana: The Maker slaughtered a group of children for walking on sacred ground.

Sebastian: It's an allegory.

Natiana: To teach us to kill children?

Sebastian: It's about respect and obedience.

Natiana: The entire Chant is nothing but telling us to be obedient; the Maker didn't have to kill a bunch of children to make that point yet again. Would you like me to pick another?

Hawke & Fourth Party Member: No!

* * *

><p>Anders: Let's pretend you ran the Circle, free of the Chantry. What would you do?<p>

Natiana: Any child with magical talent would still be brought to the Circle, since that is what you want to hear.

Anders: Against their will.

Natiana: My Circle would be a place of learning, not a prison. Mothers could visit their children. Students could holiday at home if they so wished. It would be the sort of place that mages would be eager to stay.

Anders: Why force them into the Circle at all?

Natiana: An uneducated mage is the most dangerous. It would be irresponsible to let these children run about in the real world without knowing how to properly use their magic and fend off demons.

Anders: But suppose this child, this family decided that they didn't want them in the Circle, that they wanted an alternate education for them. Would they be apostates? Would they be hunted down?

Natiana: I… hadn't thought of that. I can't see why anyone would refuse such a thing.

Anders: You're still taking away the choice from these young mages. That still makes it a prison, whatever perks you add.

* * *

><p>Natiana: I've never been in a forest, Merrill. What is it like?<p>

Merrill: The Brecilian Forest in Ferelden was unlike any other. Trees as thick as castle spires, so tall you could hardly see the tops. If it was any greener, it would hurt your eyes. Life buzzes and sings around you, from the birds to the insects, the plants and the stones.

Natiana: It sounds lovely. Wish I could see it.

Merrill: Me too. Ghilan'nain, do I miss it.

Natiana: You may yet see it again someday.

Merrill: That's unlikely, but a lovely thought.

* * *

><p>Varric: Got any funny stories from the Antivan Circle?<p>

Natiana: Well, there was this one time that Senior Enchanter Meloni was lecturing on herbalism, and the creation of balms in particular. Well! She misspoke and accidentally said that _dragon's bile_ would be best used in a burning balm instead of drake's bile. Can you imagine! We barely were able to keep from laughing out loud and disrupting the entire lecture. Oh, we talked about that one for weeks!

Varric: I guess I had to be there.

* * *

><p>Natiana: Women warriors are rare in Antiva.<p>

Aveline: I've heard that. Why is that the case?

Natiana: Because Antivan women are delicate, apparently. Better suited to child rearing and looking pretty.

Aveline: That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Women are every bit as capable in battle as men.

Natiana: Oh, I agree whole heartedly, and you are proof of that. We can add it to the ever-growing list of things in the world that are in dire need of change.

* * *

><p>Isabella: I think you just haven't found exactly what strikes your fancy.<p>

Natiana: Not this again.

Isabella: All you've ever been exposed to all your life are stuffy mages and chaste Templars. I can see how that would make a woman so… austere.

Natiana: _Austere?_

Isabella: I've been to Antiva, I've seen the type of people that live out in the real world. Just dripping with sensuality, every last one of them. A man and woman for every taste. I could introduce you to some of them. There's this one elf I used to know, very skilled.

Natiana: You just love the sound of your voice, don't you?

Isabella: Consider me your captain on a voyage of self discovery. We'll figure out what you like yet, sweet thing.


	10. Act II: A Bitter Pill

**Act II: A Bitter Pill**

The mages must have assumed with higher ground they would have the advantage. Hawke shook his head at the men and called out, "Fenris is a free man!" He almost didn't catch the little smile the elf gave him.

The Tevinters on the rocky outcrop scowled down at them. Fenris knew that one day Denarius would come to claim him, and had spoken of little else for the past three years. Today it looked as though the Tevinter Magister had sent a party out to collect his property. "I won't repeat myself! Back away from the slave now!"

"I am not your slave!" the elf bellowed, and the lyrium burned into patterns on his skin flashed and glowed a brilliant blue.

Hawke took a step back, and then motioned with a hand. He'd been practicing this spell for just such an occasion. While his fire and ice magic were helpful and destructive, he seldom travelled without a companion skilled with a blade. Rather than wait for the steel to meet the enemy, best to bring the enemy to the steel. Hawke tapped into the force energy that he was always able to just taste on the air. He made a fist in the air, then yanked it inwards. The mages on the hill yelped and tumbled forward, his spell pulling them towards him. A few landed heavily and grunting with the pain of impact.

Fenris leapt upon the others like his namesake. His heavy blade ripped them to ribbons, releasing sprays of red on the Wounded Coast sand. Finally, the elf stepped back, breathless and flushed, but his bloodlust was not entirely sated.

A single Tevinter mage still lived, injured from the fall and moaning in pain. Fenris pressed his knee into his back, and gripped the man's hair. He slammed his head into the ground, "Where is he?"

The mage was young, and if he had not just tried to kill them, Hawke might have thought he had a sweet face. The mage sputtered, spitting gritty sand from his mouth, "Please…. Don't kill me-"

WHAM. Fenris struck his head against the ground a second time. "Tell me!"

"I don't know, I swear," the mage stammered, trembling under Fenris. "Hadriana brought us. She's at the holding caves north of the city. I can show you-"

"No need. I know which ones you speak of."

"Then let me go. I beg you… I swear, I won't-"

"You chose the wrong master." Fenris spun the man's head in his hands easily, casually, as if he'd done it a thousand times before. There was a sickening snap as his neck broke, and he fell lifeless back onto the sand.

"Hadriana. I was a fool to think I was free. They'll never let me be!"

They group plunged into the caves, killing more Tevinter mages and their creations, and finding more victims. They came across a young elven slave, and Hawke gave her a handful of coins and convinced her to run.

Eventually they found Hadriana, and she begged for her life after she was beaten in battle, revealing to a stunned Fenris he had a sister. Fenris' expression went cold and killed the woman, then stepped away, eager to leave.

"You know that all mages aren't like this," Hawke said delicately.

Fenris spun back to him, "And who should be our example? Anders? Merrill? Or perhaps the Antivan?"

Natiana, who had been holding her tongue up until now with some difficulty, finally let out an offended scoff and said, "Me? Whatever did I do?"

Fenris turned his head to look at her, nose wrinkling in disgust. "Call them illusions or tricks, you still manipulate minds with your foul magic. And you are every bit as power hungry as Hadriana ever was, don't try to convince me otherwise."

Natiana had opened her mouth, ready to explain exactly what illusions were, but as Fenris went on, her mouth closed with a faint click of her teeth, and she stared at a crack in the floor.

Fenris turned away, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in irritation."Even if I found my sister, who's to say what the magisters have done to her?" He finally looked back at Hawke, "What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?"

Even from Fenris, the words struck Hawke like a blow to the chest. He himself was a mage, and still struggled to prove to Fenris, to himself, to everyone that mages weren't evil. And here stood Fenris, someone he thought had trusted him, someone he worked hard to help, hitting him with that.

He must have worn his thoughts on his face, for a moment later Fenris looked apologetic. He lifted his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes as he turned away. "I… need to go."


End file.
